


Let Me See Your Moves

by blue_sweater



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex, Slash, Smut, but its okay because he's good in bed, in which derek is a compulsive sadist weirdo werewolf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-11
Updated: 2012-11-11
Packaged: 2017-11-18 10:48:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/560189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_sweater/pseuds/blue_sweater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What do you like?” Stiles asked, genuinely curious.<br/>“I like watching you when you come."</p><p>In which Derek is a bit of a sadist and he likes pushing Stiles to his limits. But it's alright because it's Sterek and nothing hurts. (Except maybe Stiles in the morning.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me See Your Moves

**Author's Note:**

> The title is taken from the song G.I.N.A.S.F.S. by Fall Out Boy (a good song and a great Sterek song, might I add - stands for 'gay is not a synonym for shitty', pretty fuckin accurate dontcha reckon) and basically I just wanted some fucked up Derek and non-blushing-virgin Stiles and this is what happened. Enjoy, you crazy kids.  
> Also, look! I made a poster thing.  
> 
> 
>   
> 

  
_I’ve loved everything about you that hurts_  
 _So let me see your moves, let me see your moves_  
 _Lips pressed close to mine, true blue_

\-----------------------------------

He loved the eyelashes. Apart from the fact that his eyes were so warm, such soft, golden amber, eyes that radiated when he was turned on, when he was being touched, when he was being fucked – the eyelashes were so beautiful. Dark and thick, casting shadows down the smooth skin of his cheeks, half-lidded, fucked-hard, tired eyes with drooping eyelashes.

His lips went red, too. Swollen, parted, beautiful. Sometimes because he’d had his mouth fucked, other times simply from being kissed, sometimes from having a hand over his mouth because he was making too much noise. But his lips, always a bit dry at first, soon so wet and perfect, open to receive anything he was offered.

Derek could hardly look at Stiles without thinking of the way he looked after they slept together, because Stiles looked so good after he came, after he was exhausted, unable to move. Derek would climb in his window at night, when Stiles was falling asleep. Derek would crawl over the curled-up form, kiss his neck and bite at his ear until he woke up, shifting beneath him. He would whisper something sarcastic, make some stupid joke and Derek would tell him to shut up, and go back to kissing him until he was flushed and hot and his heart was pounding in his chest, every break of their mouths only to take in oxygen, every movement only to get closer, to find more skin, to find more heat.

Stiles used to be so innocent. The first time Derek pushed a finger inside of Stiles, his hips jerked forward and he made this startled, strangled noise that sounded so good to Derek, he kept on doing it, kept on pressing to find that spot inside which made Stiles beg for more. The first time Stiles gave Derek a blowjob, he was so messy and blushing, and he got hard without even being touched. The first time Derek actually fucked him, Stiles came three times before Derek did, and he nearly passed out.

These days, Stiles was less innocent. He wasn’t ashamed to ask for more, he didn’t care if he had to beg because sometimes Derek was a bit sadistic and liked to draw it out. He liked when Derek told him what to do. He still talked too much, but that was only incentive for Derek to thrust in harder, to shut him up. He was able to take it harder and deeper than before, able to move his hips to give Derek perfect access, able to stretch his legs just that little bit wider so Derek could thrust all the way in, the sound of their moans combined with the sound of skin on skin.

The first time Derek had flipped them and told Stiles to ride him, the teenager had blushed a dozen shades of red and stammered that he didn’t think he’d be able to, until Derek held his hips firmly and thrust up, eventually working him up enough that he began to move on his own, without even realising. It was now one of his favourite positions, though it usually ended in Derek turning them over and fucking him into the mattress.

Tonight, Derek wanted Stiles on top again. They hadn’t quite got to below the waist yet. Derek had torn the blankets from the bed, too hot to be underneath them, and he had settled between Stiles’ open legs, his hands trailing down to ghost over the shape of Stiles’ legs.

“I love your legs,” Derek said, between furious kisses. “I love your calves.”

“I bet you’d like them better if they were wrapped around you,” Stiles replied in a hushed voice, groaning as Derek kissed at his neck. “I bet you like when I put them on your shoulders. You get real deep when my legs are on your shoulders.”

Derek growled. He didn’t like to admit that Stiles had a way with words, but they had tried phone sex more than once and it was more than enough to get Derek hard. Just words.

“You want to know what I like?” Derek asked, voice low.

Stiles paused. Derek didn’t usually make conversation during sex. It was always Stiles talking, always Stiles moaning, always Stiles asking for more. Apart from all that, Derek didn’t let Stiles know what he liked. He usually just took it. “What do you like?” Stiles asked, genuinely curious. 

Palming at the tent in the teenager’s boxers, relishing the stuttered moan that Stiles made and the way he bucked into his touch, Derek said, “I like watching you when you come. Your eyes almost close, your mouth is open, you get so tight,” he growled, biting at his nipple, licking it, watching Stiles as he writhed. “And you look so fucking good.”

Stiles made a small keening sound as Derek moved away, but he was only standing to remove his pants. Such a bother. The shirt had been lost long before. Stiles lifted his hips and shucked off his own boxers, his erection bouncing to touch his stomach. Derek stared at him for a moment – slender frame, wiry muscles, chest heaving slightly as he regained breath, his flat abdomen sporting a dark trail of hair beneath his navel, his weeping cock impatiently waiting for attention.

And then there were the eyes, smouldering, dark, half-closed, framed by thick dark lashes, fluttering so slightly. Derek felt his chest rumble as the wolf inside began to grow restless. There is a beautiful naked person on the bed, waiting to be taken – what are you doing standing here?

Falling back to the bed, Derek kissed Stiles, swallowing the moans he made as he parted his lips, stroking at the inside of Stiles’ mouth, exploring every crevice, every cavity. Stiles made a small noise as Derek grasped his middle and flipped them, so Stiles was on top.

The surprised look on Stiles’ face didn’t last long. He smiled, that daring and sexy smirk that only Derek was allowed to see. “You want to watch me come, Derek,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

Derek reached into the bedside table for the lube. He knew it was there. He’d put it there. Coating his fingers in the slick, strawberry flavoured substance (fruity upon Stiles’ request), Derek’s hand went to Stiles’ behind, watching his lips part in a small gasp as he felt Derek’s fingers pressing at his entrance, covering the surrounding surfaces with lube before he pressed a finger inside, sliding all the way in without warning.

Stiles whimpered and bucked forward, his cock pressing against Derek’s, making the werewolf groan in unison. Stiles reached down to touch himself, or perhaps to touch Derek, but Derek had other ideas. “No, Stiles,” Derek managed through clenched teeth, batting his hand away. “No touching.”

Stiles actually whined, like a sad puppy. He had the big brown eyes to pull it off. “C’mon, Derek, I hate no touching,” he complained, but then Derek pressed in another finger and began to scissor inside of him, and any other complaints he had were lost.

“No touching,” Derek insisted, eyes wide as he watched the teenager grind down on his hand, watched him move. “You’re going to come without touching your dick – three times.”

“Three?!” Stiles exclaimed in a drawn-out moan. “Fuck, Derek – that’s – that’s torture.”

Grasping Stiles’ neck and pulling him down, Derek hissed in his ear, “I like watching you come.”

That was the end of that discussion. Stiles leaned on Derek’s chest as Derek fingered him, slowly stretching him and occasionally keeping his fingers all the way in simply to rub over and over again at Stiles’ prostate, just because he liked the way Stiles pushed back onto his hand, the way his voice broke when he tried to speak.

“Derek – holy Jesus _fuck_ ohmygod, Derek, please, _please_ – I need you inside –”

“Want,” Derek corrected. “You want me inside.”

“Who – _ahh_ – who fucking cares, just fuck me, Derek, _please_ –”

“I’ll finish you once. Then you’ll fuck yourself on me, and come again. And then I’ll fuck you, and you’ll finish again. And nobody is going to touch your dick,” Derek said. “Got that?” 

Stiles nodded, biting at his lip. “Got it. Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” he murmured.

Derek reached up and pinched at Stiles’ nipple, his nails hard and cruel. Stiles gasped. “That’s for being a smartass,” Derek growled.

Derek kissed at Stiles’ neck, biting at all the sensitive parts – his pulse, his collar bone, the small area at the junction of his shoulder and neck. He had to keep a firm hand on Stiles’ hip to stop him thrusting down, trying to get some friction, trying to brush his aching cock against Derek’s cock, his hip, anything.

He knew Stiles was close when his body began to shudder, muscles growing tight, clenching around the three fingers Derek was pushing inside, whimpering as Derek viciously pressed against his prostate, as Derek’s unshaven face left the skin at his neck red and angry, and then Stiles was saying Derek’s name, over and over again as he got closer.

“Derek – oh, god – _Derek_ – Derek – ohh _Jeezus_ Christ – Derek – I’m –”

Stiles choked on the moan that tore from his throat as his hips jerked, his back arched, trembling, and he spurted hot white strings of come across Derek’s washboard abs, gasping deep, shuddering breaths as his dick twitched, and Stiles’ arms were shaking as he tried to stay upright.

Derek gently kissed at Stiles’ throat for a minute, letting the teenager catch his breath, before he grasped onto his slender hips and positioned him over Derek’s erection. It used to take Stiles a few short thrusts before he could take all of Derek – eight inches was fairly big, it was mostly the girth which gave him issues – but now, Derek had no concerns about Stiles’ wellbeing as he pulled him down, entering in one slow, smooth motion, completely burying himself inside.

The shuddering moan that Stiles made when he felt Derek press inside was glorious, and Derek growled, eyes flashing red for a moment, fingers digging into the soft flesh at Stiles’ upper thighs as he settled himself onto Derek’s cock, trying to control his breathing at the same time. 

Derek saw Stiles’ hands creep forward towards his half-hard erection, as though to bring himself back up to speed, but Derek intercepted both of his hands, entwining their fingers, letting Stiles lean down on him, his strong arms able to bear the weight.

“What are you waiting for, Stiles?” Derek asked, raising an eyebrow.

Stiles gave him a half-smile, already looking pretty worn out. “I dunno. I thought I’d just sit here for a minute or two.”

Pulling his arms back and forcing Stiles to lean forward, Derek thrust up into him, the position allowing Derek’s cock to brush over his prostate.

“F-fuck,” Stiles stammered. He took a few deep breaths before pressing himself back up, and then he began to move. His hips moved forward and back, mostly – up and down only slightly. Back and forth, he could get more of Derek’s cock brushing against his prostate, and Derek groaned as Stiles rode him, grinding down, sharp moans with every movement of his hips.

“Oh my god – Derek – I need to touch myself, _please_ –”

“You’re doing so good, baby, you feel so good.”

“I – Derek, I need to –”

“Soon, baby.”

Derek kept his eyes open, watching Stiles' body move, watching his hips move forward and back with practiced, perfect movements, using Derek to get himself off, using Derek to get deeper and feel better.

“Holy f-f-fuck, Derek,” he murmured, voice catching. “You feel so good – I – I can feel you – deep – inside me.”

“Feels good,” Derek agreed brusquely.

It didn’t take too much longer for Stiles to become completely hard again, his erection red and swollen and perfect. He was smaller than Derek, but it didn’t really matter, because he was perfect. Derek watched a small bead of white leak from the tip, and he glanced up at Stiles, who was chewing on his lip, his eyes squeezed shut, trying to keep himself from finishing, at least for a bit longer, because he didn’t want to give Derek the satisfaction.

“You gonna come again, Stiles?” Derek asked in a hushed voice.

“Are you gonna come?” Stiles breathed.

“Not just yet,” Derek replied with a smug look on his face. Stiles hated that Derek had such good stamina, he said it wasn’t fair, but he never complained while they were actually having sex.

Stiles gasped, his movements no longer slow and even but sharp and hard and fast. He was nearly there again, his lips parted, and Derek moved up to kiss him, biting at the already worried lip as Stiles cried out, not caring to check his voice, shaking as he came again. There was slightly less this time, but it was still hot.

Derek gave Stiles a gentle kiss, the breathless teenager barely able to open his eyes. “You’re so good, baby,” Derek said softly, kissing at the corner of his mouth. “You did so good."

“Please, Derek,” Stiles whispered, “God, _please_ touch me. If I have to come again, I don’t care, but I can’t take much more. It’s so much more intense when it’s just the inside, I need you to touch me – you _know_ how to touch me –”

"I know,” Derek replied, before he gently turned Stiles over, not caring that the sticky white mess on his abdomen was shifting, dropping down to Stiles’ shivering body and onto the sheets. Derek was still inside of him, and he still had a hold of Stiles’ hands, pressing them down onto the mattress, kneeling between Stiles’ long legs, which were now wrapped around him.

And Derek had to admit, he did like that.

He began to thrust slowly, and Stiles was whimpering and writhing as soon as he began to move. He was so responsive, so sensitive. “Derek, I can’t,” he whispered, but Derek didn’t let him finish whatever sentence he was trying to form.

“You can, baby,” he replied, his voice growing hoarse from heavy breaths. “I know you can.”

“Derek,” Stiles whined, “It’s – too much –”

Derek silenced him with an open mouthed kiss as he thrust deep inside his lover. Before, Stiles had been shifting back and forth, the thrusts short though they were deep. This time, Derek was thrusting all the way in, and pulling all the way out, and the sensation was far more physically satisfying for him, though he had to admit watching Stiles ride him was glorious.

He could feel Stiles clenching with every thrust, every movement striking gold, every thrust resulting in a desperate gasp for breath. Derek lowered himself further, dipping his head down to Stiles’ shoulder, letting the teenager’s moans ring in his ear.

This time took longer. Stiles was almost entirely out of energy – Derek hadn’t done this to him for a while, and last time he had touched his cock. This time he was aching, desperate, exhausted, not wanting to come again because it was so drawn out, so difficult, but oh so fucking good.

“You’re amazing,” Derek whispered, as he picked up the pace of his thrusts slightly. “Feels so good around me – being inside you – it’s so good.”

“You keep saying good,” Stiles said, his voice stuttered between gasps and moans.

"It is good."

“Get a fucking dictionary.”

He got an extra hard thrust for that, and Stiles made a choked sound. For a moment Derek thought he had hurt him, but he looked down and Stiles' eyelashes were low, half-lidded, eyes not wide or white with pain.

“Get some fucking manners,” Derek growled, and he began to fuck Stiles properly, hard enough to wipe that smartass grin from his gorgeous face.

Stiles begged to be touched, begged Derek to let him touch himself, insisted he could take no more, and yet he thrust his hips back and tightened around Derek. He could feel Stiles’ hands pushing back, as though he was trying to get free from Derek’s grip, but it was not going to happen.

“Are you close?” Derek asked.

Stiles glared at him. “I’d be surprised if I had anything _left_ to finish with, you compulsive fucking masochistic weirdo sadist fucking werewolf hebephile piece of shit –”

Whatever remained of his abuse was left unfinished as Derek released one of the hands to grasp at Stiles’ throbbing erection. Stiles let out a strangled sob and came almost instantly, and Derek could no longer hold back. He thrust harder and considerably faster, eyes on Stiles as he bit his lip so hard he drew blood, and with a rumbling growl that seemed to echo around the room, he spilled himself inside of Stiles, hot and tight and perfect.

He collapsed on top of Stiles, their chests moving in tandem, Stiles almost hyperventilating. They would definitely need to shower, what with the come they had collected on their stomachs, but that could wait for a little while.

Derek rolled away, not wanting to crush the boy he loved straight after fucking him into oblivion, and he said, “You’re so good.”

“Get – a – fucking – dictionary."

“You called me a whole bunch of names. That wasn’t very nice.”

“And it resulted in you touching me. I don’t see how it’s a bad thing.”

“You’re cunning.”

“You’re cruel.”

Derek smiled lazily before leaning across to kiss Stiles on his flushed cheek. “You’re perfect.”

“You’re a fuckin’ puppy, Derek,” Stiles said with a sigh, but there was a smile playing on his lips.

Derek watched his half open eyes and his thick eyelashes, tangled and dark and wonderful, and he stared at the perfectly smooth skin, at those red, bloody lips and warm amber eyes and he smiled. Stiles was always stunning, but moments like these, when he was exhausted, fucked numb, completely spent and completely worn, he still radiated an unbelievable beauty.

Derek told him that he loved him and Stiles told it back, and his dark eyelashes fluttered over eyes of warm gold.

\----------------------------------- 

_I've already given up on myself twice_  
 _Third time is the charm, third time is the charm_  
 _Threw caution to the wind, but I've got a lousy arm_


End file.
